Slippery Slope
by SerialRavist
Summary: Ramza and Alma are each other's only peers in their long retirement in Romanda, and it's hard to keep your guard up around someone you love.
1. Storm of Memory

_A/N: A few people expressed interest in a story like this one, so I went ahead and wrote it. Here you go. :) Chapters will probably shorter but more numerous than in my other FFT stories, so I expect the pacing to feel a little weird. Also, it's just romance and such. No action. And the romance stuff might not be... suitable... for sensitive readers. No lemon but hints of citrus, and the relationship is not for the faint of heart. You've been warned.  
_

_Credit must go to Gaming Ikari, who got me to start posting what I'd already written of this story. I started working on it sometime in early 2009, and I'm just posting it now. Haha. Ha. Please don't hurt me._

_This story is written in alternating first-person point of view. All POVs belong to either Ramza or Alma._

_Usual disclaimer: I don't own it. Not FFTactics, not the characters, not the setting, nothing. And you probably don't either. And if you do, uh, that's cool but what are you doing here? You're kinda scaring me._

Chapter One: Storm of Memory

Romanda reminds me of Ivalice in fall. Vast, rolling flatlands boasting swell after swell of golden grass, stands of tasteful maples shedding the odd orange or crimson leaf no matter the season, no matter that the others are still green. Lumpy slate-grey sky looming over us, threatening rain, driving a warm wind which ripples my dress and hair. It's warm here, both in temperature and in hue, warm enough that even in the coldest season I won't need more than a light cloak. Warmer than back home.

Tree branches shake and rustle above me, shedding a handful more leaves, which drift fluttering a good ten paces away before alighting on the red dirt of this town's only road. A moment later Ramza drops to the ground and slaps twigs from his clothes and armor. He looks a little messy as usual, a little rumpled, with that shortish golden hair, the same color as mine, pulled into a halfhearted tail. Also as usual, his clothes are wrinkled from being stuffed into backpacks, and they could probably use washing.

Something cradled in his right arm is meowing.

"Yay! Tiger!" A dark-haired young girl, no more than seven years old, rushes out from behind the protection of her mother's apron to accept the orange kitten Ramza gives her. "You got him down!" She holds the thing like a sausage, just under its front legs, letting all four of its limbs hang in dangling uselessness, and nuzzles her nose against the animal's.

"Yep. He wasn't up too high, at least." Ramza squats on his heels to watch the girl's reunion with her kitten, and his face is earnestly serious. Opposite him, the girl's mother, a slim woman calling herself Anala, is smothering a smile. I am, too.

"Yay! Thank you!" Propping the cat against one shoulder, the girl darts forward to give Ramza a one-armed hug.

He returns the gesture, though his lips thin in embarrassment; I'm the only one he can hug with any level of comfort. Then, straightening, he catches my eye and tilts his head in question.

As I nod, Anala shuffles towards us, smiling once at her daughter cooing over the kitten, and presses her hands together before her chest in gratitude. "Thank you. Can I get you two some tea or anything? Inya's been worrying over that silly cat all morning."

"Oh, no, it's okay." Ramza gives his head a slow shake, and his smile is apologetic. He doesn't even need to glance my way before answering; we've done this dance before. "We need to keep moving if we're going to reach Saná by dark."

The Romandan woman's dark eyes widen in mild concern as she glances between the two of us. "Are you sure? It's really no trouble; I have a pot on already."

"Nah, it was nothing big, and I'm just glad she's happy." Ramza inclines his head in a minimal bow.

"Well... okay." Anala shrugs. "Then, travel safely, at least." Turning, she raps her knuckles playfully on the top of her daughter's head. "Come on, Inya. Let's get Tiger back home, shall we?"

"Okay!" The girl whirls and hurries along with her mother, probably having forgotten us already. Together the two of them make their way towards one of a cluster of plain homes crouching around the road.

Ramza stares after them for a moment, then bends to grab his backpack and bedroll from the road before turning to head in the other direction, east, without a word. I follow, falling in by his side. The wind stirs again as we walk, flapping my dress around my calves.

"Anyway," he sighs after a moment, tucking his thumbs under the backpack straps. "What were you saying before all of that?"

I frown. "I... can't remember now. You made me forget. Meanie."

"You'll be fine."

"Mmm." We walk along in silence for a time before I lose out in my ability to control my smile. "It seems Brother is a young girl's fairy-tale hero."

He snorts at this and doesn't take his eyes off the road ahead. "Knock it off, Alma. By tomorrow she'll have forgotten we were ever here."

My smile fades. "I suppose." That's the way it is now.

It's been six months since we came to Romanda. At first we could barely speak the language, just enough to stutter out requests for food or lodging. To remedy that we've worked a handful of odd jobs, all in remote areas. Stopping at a farmhouse where, say, Ramza would chop wood for the inhabitants and I would help with household chores, all in exchange for a pittance of a wage, or more often, just food and a warm place to sleep. Never for more than a few days at a time. But it's not like we needed the money; Ramza has a pouch full of nothing but gems, all converted from gil back in Ivalice, an incongruous legacy of his days as a wanted heretic.

No, what the friendly people of Romanda have given us is a handle on their language, their customs. So now, we're obviously still foreigners, but we can move and communicate freely. Or, freely enough to do what we came here to do, which is just what we're doing now: little things to help out people in need. Wandering, never settling. Just the two of us.

The road to Saná is empty and winding. A ribbon of reddish dirt threading between low hills and around groves of maple and olive trees, little more than a line separating one vast ocean of amber grass from another. By midday the road takes us close to the rocky coast, then follows it northward. The rain the clouds promised earlier starts up shortly after the turn, driving warm fat drops of water sideways into my face and clothes.

I smile to myself as thunder rumbles across the western sky. Ever since I was little, thunderstorms have made me think of Ramza, so it's only fitting that I'm walking with him now.

Saná is a port on the Larner Channel separating Romanda from Ivalice, and it's not a particularly big city. Not even half the size of Dorter. Stocky walls of rust-colored stone form a rectangle around the city, seemingly squeezing the buildings within into a cramped mess. Smoke rises from countless places inside, smithies and foundries and such, while to the east of the city long piers jut into the water like stone fingers, sometimes sending sprays of water ten feet into the air when choppy waves strike them.

As we take our time descending a rocky mud-slicked trail from one of the bluffs overlooking the Channel, I poke Ramza's shoulder. "What do you want to do here? How long do you want to stay?"

"Dunno." His eyes are trained on the uncertain ground as he moves. "Maybe just hit an inn, listen to rumors or something. See what's happening here and if we're even needed at all."

"Okay."

Less than a half-hour later we're strolling into the city, past a pair of solemn guards in black tabards bearing the silver Fist and Star of Prince Lanard. No, I guess it's _Imperator _Lanard, now; after Delita's and Ovelia's coronation, the guy felt he had to one-up Ivalice so he re-titled himself. In any case, on the inside Saná is much like any other city I've seen, crowded, noisy, full of travelers and children and animals, not to mention vendors yelling at us to buy their wares because their children are so, so hungry these days and don't you really need a new brooch to hold that cloak shut against this awful rain? I ignore them and follow Ramza to the first inn we come across, a solid-looking place called the Lucky Feather.

Once inside I shake rainwater from my cloak, then pause when Ramza grunts and freezes beside me. Blinking, I glance up at him, then follow his gaze past a chattering group of wizards to where two familiar figures are standing at the bar.

After a moment he shakes himself, then strides briskly towards them. "Mustadio! Meliadoul! What are you guys doing here?"

Our fellow Ivalicians whirl at the greeting, then stare at the two of us, clearly as surprised as we are. Mustadio looks the same as he always has, and as silly, with that tri-colored engineer's garb that hurts the eyes. His ponytail might be slightly longer than when I saw him last. Meliadoul is different, though; she's doffed the emerald Shrine Knight robes and is sporting just a common cloak over an intimidating suit of gold-plated armor that looks like it was taken from the portrait of some legendary general or conqueror. She's doing her hair differently now as well, having pulled it back into two loose brown pigtails hanging nearly to her spiked shoulders. If Ramza hadn't been here, there's no way I would have recognized her, especially from behind.

She recovers first. Grinning, she delivers a punch to Ramza's shoulder. "Shouldn't we be asking you that? I knew you were planning to..." She blinks, then pauses, glancing in calculation at the crowd nearly bursting out of the common room. "Maybe we should talk about this after we get our rooms."

"Oh. Right." Beside her, Mustadio shrugs, then turns back to the aged innkeeper, who's been waiting for us with arms crossed and an impatient scowl on his face.

As they settle into the details of their transaction, Ramza shuffles forward. "You still greet people by punching them, I see," he mutters to Meliadoul, rubbing his shoulder.

"Keeps you on your toes," she answers. "You need it, too, you softie." As she speaks she reaches over to pinch his cheek.

He knocks her hand aside and leans away. "Oh, for..." Undeterred, she laughs and keeps trying to pinch him, which shortly results in the two of them simply batting ineffectively at one another's hands.

I clear a scowl from my face. These people are Ramza's friends, not mine. I mean, they seem nice enough, but I'd only call Mustadio an acquaintance of mine, and I barely know Meliadoul at all. Ramza's probably going to want to sit and chat with them all night, which'll mean I get to sit there too, smiling and nodding as they laugh at old stories I wasn't there to witness firsthand.

But it's a reasonable thing to do, I guess. He loves all his friends and they do share a lot of history. I can forgive him.

Soon Mustadio's arranged lodging for himself and Meliadoul, and the two of them trudge up the inn's stairs. Ramza takes their place at the bar and begins speaking in a low voice with the innkeeper. I know the routine: one room, cheapest one available. Okay, one bed or two? Cheapest available. Alright, sir, up there, last on the right.

In moments we're in the middle of stowing our gear in a corner of the room. It's dark in here, a consequence of it being twilight outside, not to mention that the shutters are closed against the driving rain. It's tight, as well. That, I don't really mind, as the room is really just for sleeping, and it's clean besides. As I'm busy hanging my cloak on a wooden hook near the door, Meliadoul strides into the room, followed by Mustadio.

"So," begins the former Shrine Knight, planting gauntleted hands on her hips, "what are you guys up to these days? I knew you wanted to disappear, but I didn't know you meant in Romanda."

Ramza eyes me for some reason, then shrugs. "Why not? You know we didn't want to stay in Ivalice, and Romanda sounded interesting. So we're just kind of wandering, doing whatever strikes us. What about you two?"

"Well," breathes Mustadio, "we're here for business. This town has a curio dealer who has some old things my father wants to look at, and there are good metals in this region for our other work."

"And I'm just muscle," adds Meliadoul proudly, pointing at herself.

"Ah." Ramza nods. "How long are you going to be in Saná? Did you just get here or what?"

"Got off the ship not an hour past," confirms Meliadoul. "Sounds like we'll be here a few days, at least. Right?"

"Oh. Right." Mustadio shakes his head. "I don't know where this vendor's shop is, and I'm not certain about his name, either. So I'm not really sure. I guess we'll stay until our business is done."

"But more importantly," interjects the knight, throwing one arm around Ramza's shoulders and one around my own, "now that the basic stuff is out of the way, we could be talking downstairs where there's both light and food."

Ramza nods. "Good point. Alma, you hungry?"

Not anymore. "Oh, sure."

Meliadoul laughs and ushers us out of the room, but I manage to squirm out of her grip, then tail the others as they chat their way down the hallway and the stairs. I'm not looking forward to tonight, but I can endure. I could endure anything, for Ramza.


	2. Can't Quite Put My Finger on It

Chapter Two: Can't Quite Put My Finger on It

It's dusk. Ghostly bars of amber sunlight angle in through the inn's open windows, throwing faint shadows on the far wall. In moments, though, the sunlight will disappear altogether, leaving the sky a peach-streaked violet. When Alma was still missing, I used to look at sunsets like this and wonder if she was watching too. A question I guess I learned from Delita.

"Hello? Ramza?"

I blink, then turn to regard Meliadoul, who's seated across from me. Then I smile at the tabletop. "Oh, sorry. I was just... lost in thought."

"Clearly." She chuckles, then kicks my leg under the table. "Lost in thought about what?"

"Just... the sunset." Alma's missing right now, too, but only temporarily; she got splattered with mud earlier today from a passing wagon, and is busy cleaning herself up. I didn't see it in time to throw myself in the way.

The following silence draws my eyes to Meliadoul, but she's just watching me with her chin resting on her folded hands and her elbows on the table. She's smiling, too, and the fading sunlight is actually glittering in her dark eyes. "The sunset, huh? You're such a romantic."

I laugh at this and shift in my seat. "Oh, come on. I'm just... I'm not like that."

"And so modest, too." She watches me a moment longer, then exhales and leans back in her chair. She's out of her armor for the day; it's always strange to see her in normal clothes, plain but well-made shirt and breeches of green linen.

I bury my face in my mug of milk. "You know I don't like being complimented."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Shaking my head, I set my beverage back on the table and frown out into the city street. "Where's Mustadio, anyway?"

Meliadoul laughs, a low, almost mischievous sound. "Well, he said he had some other errands to run, but I figure he just wanted to get away from me for a while. It was sort of a long boat ride to get here."

"Get away from..." I throw her a frown. "You mean you guys aren't... together?"

"Yeah, we... oh. Oh!" She stares at me wide-eyed, then laughs again, pounding a fist on the table. "Oh, _God_, no. No, it's not like that." She takes a deep breath, then chuckles again before she can finish. "No, I meant we're 'together' in the sense that I'm working for him and his father, but that's it. He lacks vision." She pauses, poking at the tabletop, and continues in a low, suggestive voice. "Not at all like you."

"Meliadoul..."

"Sorry." She doesn't sound sorry, though, and she's still smiling as she takes a sip from her ale.

I can't help but shake my head as I answer with another swallow milk. "You're different now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You're really... what's the word?"

"Flirty?"

My cheeks heat and I scowl at the street outside. It's starting to get less crowded out there now, with the day ending. "That's... one way to put it, I suppose. You weren't always like this, were you? And I just forgot?"

For a long time she just stares into her mug, frowning. Then she lifts her eyes to me. Worried, serious eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, Ramza. I've been so surprised to see you, I guess I just sort of... lost it, a little bit. I can be better."

"No, that's not..." I trail off, then rub my forehead. How the hell did we get to be talking about this? A day ago I wasn't expecting to see her again for the rest of my life, and now she's apologizing for flirting. Sighing, I down the last of my milk, then set the mug back onto the table and stare into it.

"We..." Meliadoul pauses, struggling for words, then sighs tightly. "Can we go somewhere quieter?"

"Yeah. How about... upstairs?"

Her eyes snap to mine, wary and a little irritated; she probably thinks I meant something else. But shortly she relaxes and nods. "Yeah. Just let me..." Without bothering to finish she grabs her ale and downs the remainder of it, then pushes back her chair and stands.

I rise as well, tossing a few coins onto the table, and then I'm making my way around the other tables, the other patrons, towards the stairs. Meliadoul follows, slowly, as though in dread. I know the feeling; I have no idea what's going on, no idea what to do, and that always makes me nervous.

I take the liberty of ducking into the room she shares with Mustadio. It's got two beds, I see; one is strewn with clothing and various little bits of machinery, while the other is stark, clean and tightly-made. Whatever else she is, she's disciplined with the little things. Once inside, I turn to face her.

Meliadoul pauses in the doorway, then shuffles a pace into the room, leaving the door open. Noise from downstairs still drifts up, but it's muted.

She stares at me. I stare back at her.

Eventually she ducks her head and grates a nervous little laugh. "Sorry. This is... kinda weird, isn't it?"

I shift my feet. "A little."

She draws a deep breath, then exhales briskly and closes her eyes. "Ramza, when we were all traveling together, I think I realized that I... liked you." Her hands curl into fists at her sides. "But there was so much going on, so much to worry about, that I didn't give it much thought. Now that we've run into each other again, though, I just feel..." She pauses, then grimaces and shakes her head. Her eyes crack open again to regard me cautiously.

I swallow. My heart is a hollow pounding in my chest; I never expected to be in this sort of situation, let alone with next to no warning at all. But she's nervous too. I have to say something. "You just feel... what? You can tell me anything."

Her anxiety remains, creasing her brow, thinning her lips, for only a moment before she relaxes visibly. "Yeah. That's true." One step takes her to me, close enough to touch me, though her hands remain at her sides. Her eyes meet my own directly, with her usual fire. "You're a really great guy, Ramza," she whispers. "You have a lot to offer a woman. When we first met I tried to kill you, and was going to do it a second time, but you never once held it against me. You welcomed me into your squad, treated me with respect, and everyone else followed your example. And with all the fighting we went through, I've seen how quickly things can change, how people can be healthy one day and dead the next, so I just... I guess I just wanted you to know that. How I felt. Before it got too late. And so that was why I was the way I was, earlier."

"Wow." I lean sideways, letting my shoulder thump into the wall. What the hell do I do here? Kiss her? No, that would feel wrong. "I... had no idea you felt this way. No idea at all."

"Yeah, well..." She smiles at the floor. "That kind of perception is not one of the things you're good at."

"No. No, it's not." I'm still trying to... trying to figure... Meliadoul? _Meliadoul_ likes me?

Long moments later, she sighs and drops to sit at the foot of her bed. "I'm sorry to lay this on you out of nowhere, Ramza. You probably think I'm crazy."

I shake my head. "Don't be sorry for how you feel. Your heart is what makes you who you are, so you should be proud of it."

Her answering smile is embarrassed, and in the dimness I can see faint color rising in her cheeks. "You would say something like that."

Now it's my turn to blush. "Come on, I'm trying to-"

"I know. I appreciate it." She sighs, rubbing both hands down her face, then glances up at me over her hands. "But don't answer me. Not right now, at least. You're obviously dumbfounded so I don't expect any decision coming out of you right now to be a good one."

"Umm..." I squint at her and rub an ear. "Thanks?"

"Don't mention it." She grins. "Anyway, it feels good to get that off my chest, I think. Even if you decide you're not interested, I think I can face that kind of answer with my head high. So... go run off, before your sister finds us alone in here and assumes the worst."

"Oh, she wouldn't..." Wait, yeah, she would do something like that. "Alright, fine." With one last mystified shake of my head I turn to the door.

"Ramza," she whispers behind me. "Thank you for listening."

"It's nothing." Who in the world wouldn't listen to someone so serious? "I'm... going to go think now."

When she doesn't answer, I cross the hallway into my own room, mine and Alma's. Once I get there and close the door, I find myself just standing in the narrow space available between the bed and the wall. Standing and staring at nothing.

I've thought about being in love before - who hasn't? - but I see now that I was always figuring it would be me doing the confessing. I'd see some girl and my heart would catch on fire, driving me to do crazy and stupid things until the heat finally escaped from my chest and crossed my lips in the form of a poorly-worded and even more poorly-executed confession. But here Meliadoul was pretty calm when she explained things to me. I don't think I'd be like that if it were me in her place.

So... now what? She's pretty, I guess, and I do enjoy her company. She's a little... loud, but that's not bad, because I'm quiet, and if she were like me we'd never talk. I guess she's a bit of a hothead, but that's just because she's passionate, which isn't really a flaw.

Before I can come to any sort of conclusion, Alma shuffles into the room with her hair wet and smelling of flowers. Her face creases into a frown on me seeing me here. "Oh. You're going to bed this early?"

I gaze at her for a silent moment, then sit and stare at the wall opposite me. "Alma?"

"Hmm?" Cloth rustles as she digs through her belongings.

"Meliadoul just told me she likes me."

The rustling stops, and when I finally glance over at her, her face is blank and the room has grown noticeably colder. "And?"

"And I want to know what you think."

Her brows draw together in a fierce frown. "Why are you asking me this?"

I scowl right back at her. "What do you mean, why? I want your advice."

She frowns down at the muddy dress in her hands, then sighs and sets the thing aside before seating herself next to me on the bed. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. Do you actually like her too?"

I shrug. "I... maybe? I'm not sure." Not as much as she likes me; that much seems certain. But then there really isn't anyone I'm madly in love with.

Alma shakes her head. "Do you think she's going to want to come along with us?" Her voice is quiet now, almost gentle.

"I have no idea. That's thinking a little too far ahead, isn't it?"

"Brother isn't very good at thinking ahead, and needs all the help he can get."

I snort, then stare down at my open hands in the dimness of the closed-up inn room. "I don't know. I think I just need time to think about it."

"Hmph." Alma heaves herself from the bed and strides to the door, but then pauses there. "Keep in mind you don't know how long they're planning to stay in town. You might have to decide sooner than you think."

Once she's gone I sigh and flop back on the bed, nearly hitting my head on the wall. She's probably right about that. I don't like feeling like I'm deciding something of this magnitude based on a whim, but maybe I don't have a choice. Maybe...

Oh, who am I kidding? I don't have the heart to say no and break her heart, not without a very compelling reason. If I had all the time in the world, I'd just waste it and then give her the same answer in the end anyway.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself, then climb to my feet. Push my way out into the hallway.

Meliadoul is still sitting on her own bed, looking tired and pensive, when I slip back into her room. At my entry, however, she glances up in surprise and a little alarm, then scrambles to her feet. "Ramza?" Her dark eyes scan my face, trying to read me, trying to predict what I'm going to say.

I'll spare her the effort and the suspense. "I'm willing to give it a try."

She freezes at this, then slumps and grins at the floor. "That doesn't sound very enthusiastic."

"Well," I sigh, "I have to be honest: this isn't what I had planned. But I do like you, so I think we should maybe try out... _us_... as long as you understand that I'll probably want to move slowly."

Meliadoul shuffles forward and rests her forearms on my shoulders, hands behind my head, then waits for me to meet her gaze before continuing. "If you told me you wanted to move quickly," she murmurs, "I'd have punched you as an impostor. So that's fine."

I manage a grin. She's close, close enough to kiss, close enough to make out little freckles on her nose and cheeks. I haven't looked at her, really _looked_ at her as a woman before, but now that I do... she's actually really pretty. Big dark eyes that glitter with reflected light from the hallway, and the cuteness of her pigtails offsets the otherwise bold lines of her jaw and mouth. "I guess you know me pretty well."

Her lips quirk. "Not as well as I'd like to."

"Well, you'll get your chance."

She laughs and ducks her head. "Okay. Anyway, I'm likely to be more affectionate than you're comfortable with, so if that happens you just-"

"Don't worry. I know."

"Okay." Meliadoul falls silent for a moment, smiling at me in the dimness, then leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Thanks for this chance, Ramza," she whispers.

I roll my eyes and lift her arms gently from my shoulders. "You have to stop thanking me for things anyone would do."

"Okay." She grins at me, for all the world like a troublesome child pretending to be obedient. "So, what now? I say it's time for a drink."

"I don't drink, Meliadoul."

"Come on, lighten up." Throwing an arm around my shoulders, she directs me towards the door. "Your self-control is a good thing, but there is such a thing as being _too_ uptight."

I shake my head and let myself be lead to the stairs and down them. Meliadoul seems happy, and in truth I'm in a good mood as well, but I can't shake the feeling that somehow, in some way, I'm doing something wrong.


	3. Forms

Chapter Three: Forms

Another day in sweaty golden sunshine of Saná, helping people out. I did my best for the city's children, curing illnesses where I was able, healing injuries and so on. Sometimes I find myself surprised at how strong kids are; one urchin boy, no older than nine, had been walking around on a broken leg for two days before I healed him, but he was joking and laughing with his friends as though nothing was wrong. But I guess Ramza would do something like that too. Maybe all boys are like that. My brother, for his part, spent most of the day running errands for some old lady who kept pinching his cheeks and calling him "Ranza."

Now it's evening, and just as humid as the daylight hours were. The inn's common room makes things even worse; it's crowded and not everyone in here is good at bathing regularly. I try not to notice things like that - Ramza never seems to care - but the part of me who grew up in a castle and then trained in a monastery can't help but be aware. But at least there's music. The innkeeper, Yarman, has hired a trio of poor outcountry musicians for the evening, and they're not bad. I wouldn't mind dancing, if I had someone to do it with. Already there are a handful of couples and a few unpaired individuals making fools of themselves on the makeshift dance floor between pushed-aside tables.

"It's kind of loud in here, isn't it? Makes it hard to talk."

"What?" I don't actually know much about dancing, but no one else seems to either, so it should be fine.

"I said it's loud."

I blink, then glance at Mustadio, who's pursing his lips and swirling the remainder of the ale in his mug. We're seated at a table in the corner, a narrow rickety thing, but it's out of the way. "Oh. Yeah, it is, kinda."

He smiles at me, then shifts his gaze to the people dancing carelessly not ten paces away. "Do you think they're aware of how they look?"

I follow his gaze and giggle. "No. But I don't think they care."

"Yeah. I know how that is."

I snicker again, then glance around for Ramza for the twentieth time tonight before realizing he's not here. Meliadoul wanted to go for "a walk" with him, so they left maybe a half-hour ago. They've only been together for a day, but she really seems to like spending time with him. Which I guess is understandable.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" I turn my gaze on Mustadio, then watch in surprise as he blinks and jerks back. Only then does it occur to me that I was scowling at the people dancing, so I summon a smile from somewhere instead, hoping to reassure him. "Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking."

The engineer nods slowly, cautiously, keeping his dark eyes on me as though he's afraid I'll leap across the table and strangle him. "It bugs you when Ramza's away, doesn't it?"

I twist my lips and poke at the wooden grain of the tabletop. "Oh, it's not that. I just..."

"You're just recovering from the surprise at having this all appear out of nowhere, right?"

I jerk my head up to stare at him, but he's just blinking back at me. "Yeah. That's right."

Mustadio grins. "I know. I'm the same way. I've accomplished almost everything I need to do in Saná so I'm just kind of waiting on Meliadoul to go back to Goug. Obviously I had no idea you guys were going to be here."

"Right." I sigh and purse my lips, then plant my chin in an open hand and stare sideways at the musicians. "How long are you going to wait, anyway? If my father needed my help and was waiting for me, I don't know how long I'd let someone else keep me from going back."

He laughs at this. "Oh, it's not like there's a rush. I do need to get back, but the things we wanted to get from here are mostly for curiosity. So I can afford to wait a bit for Meliadoul to... do whatever, I guess."

Do whatever. I conceal a grimace at this and instead just nod. "Well, I hope you don't get too bored here."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that." He lifts his mug from the table and sips from it, staring off at the dancers. "I'm hoping to find something to occupy my time while I'm here."

"Mmm. You and me both." When he doesn't answer, I let my eyes slide half-shut and wait. Wait for Ramza. I don't blame him for doing what he's doing - though a little warning would have been nice - but I also don't really have a plan for what to do when I'm _bored._ Maybe I should take up... knitting, or write poetry or something.

Ramza finally makes it back to the inn around midnight with a glowing Meliadoul on his arm. Apparently they spent most of the time "just talking" on "the boardwalk." When I ask what they ended up talking about, he just pinches my nose and laughs, like I'm joking. I laugh too.

The night is quiet, which is good. It's not like I expected them to want to change the sleeping arrangements after just a full day of being a couple, but I still can't help but feel relieved when Ramza settles down into our shared room without a second thought, as though to do otherwise never occurred to him.

Somehow a day turns into three, and then six. I stop worrying about when Mustadio wants to leave Saná and start worrying about when _Ramza_ wants to leave Saná. He and his new woman spend ample time together in the evenings, after we've done our good deeds for the day, which leaves me precious little time with him. Even when the two of them aren't gone, doing things together in the city, they may as well be gone since the Shrine Knight sits too close to him. I do manage to find some time to chat with Meliadoul in private, however, to evaluate her intentions, but she seems to be in the clear. Even if I don't approve of how she's all over him even in public, touching his arms and face, ruffling his hair.

Thus one night while the two of them are snuggling in the common room, I find myself playing an angry game of chess against Mustadio in the room he shares with Meliadoul. He's controlling the black pieces and is crushing me without mercy. He doesn't strike me as someone who's good in chess, but here we are.

"Check."

I sigh and slide a bishop in front of my king. This isn't really fun. He should play nice with a girl.

He pushes a rook up four ranks. "Check." From the common room downstairs rises the muted pulse of flute and fiddle music, as well as the unintelligible shouting from everyone down there.

I clear a scowl and slide my king diagonally backwards. Great.

His hand hovers over one of his knights, then drops back to his lap. "Alma, what is it?"

"What is what?" I mutter.

"You. You look like you're in a bad mood."

I scowl up at him for a moment, then relax with a sigh. It's not Mustadio's fault; he's a pretty good guy. We've spent a lot of time together by default during this last week. "Nothing."

He frowns at me, then unfolds his legs and re-folds them the other way. "Come on. You can tell me."

"Alright, fine." I roll my eyes. "It's just that I've barely talked to Ramza at all since we found you guys. And I don't mean to blame you or anything, since it's nobody's fault. It just kind of..."

"Bothers you."

"Yeah."

He shakes his head, then leans back against his own bed. "Look at it this way. If you're this upset, it means you're dependent on him for you to be able to have fun."

I snap a glare at him. "Okay, look here. I don't-"

Mustadio grimaces, then holds up his hands in defense. "No, sorry. I didn't mean that as an accusation."

It takes a moment for my glare to fade. "Okay. Go on."

"Anyway," he murmurs, reaching back to touch his golden ponytail, "what I meant was that... there are other good people in the world besides Ramza. Right?"

"I suppose."

"So you could spend time with people other than him and enjoy yourself, right?"

"Hmm. Yeah."

"Okay, good." Nodding, he leans forward again, over the chessboard, but then just stares down at it.

I frown down at the pieces as well, wondering how many more moves it'll take me to lose. Three? Four? The stuffy heat in the room isn't doing much for my mood either.

"You know..." He trails off, then swallows, all without looking up at me. "I think I've... kind of enjoyed the last week. Spending time with you."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, it was fun." Can I move one of my pawns up to threaten his rook? No, he'd just move aside and it wouldn't matter anymore.

"So I..." He pauses to clear his throat. "I've started to wonder if... if you're seeing anyone. You know, currently. At the moment."

"What? No, nobody." How about using my bishop to... no, then his queen could trap me in the corner. Damn it. I'm not dumb, but I'm no good at this at all.

"Oh. Good. I mean... I mean, no, that's not good so much as it's, you know, a little surprising, since you're so pretty and everything, so I just figured some guy would... you know, snap you up or... no, I guess that was a bad way to-"

"What's with you?" I mutter, scowling at the chessboard, head in my hands. "You're rambling."

Mustadio draws a deep breath, then exhales. "Alma, I really like you."

I blink at this, then stare up at him wide-eyed. "What? You like _me?_"

He nods, and his dark eyes won't quite meet my gaze. "Um... yeah."

I think about this for several long moments before remembering to close my mouth. Then I open it again. "Why? I've been grumpy all week, haven't I?"

He laughs at this, waving my concern away. "Yeah, but it's kinda cute. I know you're not really like that."

Cute? Hmm. I opt to keep my silence, thinking. Mustadio's actually a pretty good-looking guy, and he's nice and funny, but... But something. What is it?

When I don't answer, he tilts his head and shoots me a questioning glance. "It looks like you haven't really thought about me that way before, which is fine, but... do you think you might... give me a chance? It's not like I'd... ask much of you, or take advantage of you or anything."

"Oh, I know." What? Take advantage of me? Mustadio thinks I'm afraid of him? I'm not afraid of anybody if Ramza's around. "I'm just..." I pause, then laugh, sliding my gaze away from his. "I guess I know how Ramza felt, when he was talking about being surprised by Meliadoul."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Mustadio chuckles.

I shake my head and wonder if this is okay. This isn't how you're supposed to fall in love, or pair up with people. Not if you're not convinced they're the one. But... but Ramza did it, so it can't be all that bad. Right? Maybe... maybe it's okay to give someone a chance, just to see how things go. It's not like I'm promising him anything. "Okay."

He blinks. "Wait, what?"

"Okay, I'll give you a chance." I twist my lips and finger the hem of my dress. "But I... don't really know how this stuff all works."

He laughs. "Well, neither do I. I just... didn't expect you to agree, let alone so quickly."

I frown up at him. "What are you saying?"

The smile disappears. "Oh. Nothing."

I nod. "Good." After a moment of thought, I hold up a single admonishing finger. "Just don't get any ideas. I have final say over what happens and when."

Mustadio offers me a seated bow, spreading his hands to either side. "Of course."

"Oh, cut it out."

He snickers, then sits upright again. "Okay, sorry. So... what now?"

I shrug, then nod at the chessboard. "I think it's your move."

"Oh. Right." He slides the knight up and to the side. "Check."

I grit my teeth and return to examining the board. Maybe I shouldn't have reminded him of the game.

* * *

I close my eyes and rub my forehead. "Say that again?"

"I said Mustadio and I are together now."

I scowl and nod. After an evening of breeze and sea spray, the stillness of Alma's and my inn room feels almost stuffy, confining. It's humid, and my clothes are sticking to my skin in here.

"What's wrong? You look mad."

I drop my arm to my side and open my eyes to regard her. "I'm not mad."

Alma's face goes flat and doubtful. "Ramza."

I sigh. She's done nothing wrong, but she didn't even... ask me. I mean, talk to me about it. Beforehand. Not that she had to, but it would have been... nice. I did that for her. But knowing Alma, with the precedent set, she just figured she'd act, rather than wait and talk to me. She's not hasty or rash like I am, but neither does she have any patience for an outcome that is, in her mind, already decided.

"Ramza?" Her voice is softer now, and her slippers whisper on the bare wooden floor as she approaches me. "What are you thinking?"

I frown at nothing and bite my lips before thinking. "I'm... sorry."

She blinks up at me, hazel eyes puzzled. "What? Sorry for what?"

I shake my head and turn aside, for no reason other than that it's hard to look her in the eye. "I've been spending so much time with Meliadoul that I haven't really spent any with you. You're probably angry and a little hurt. I wasn't thinking about you, just about trying to make her happy, so I guess it was my mistake." I pause to laugh, but there's really nothing funny about it. "You're right: I'm not good at thinking ahead. So I... messed up, Alma. I'm sorry."

"Brother," she whispers. Her nightgown-clad arms wrap around my chest and arms. "No, I'm sorry. I've been mad at you and you haven't done anything wrong, which just means I'm being unreasonable and jealous, and that just makes me madder, only at myself, not you, but it still makes me snappy. So, I'm the one who's sorry."

I twist back to her and return the hug, holding her tightly, pressing my face into her hair. She smells clean, like the soap from her bath. "Don't worry about it. So... we're even, then?"

Her arms tighten further around me. "Yeah."

"Okay." I fall silent, letting my eyes slide mostly shut, just enjoying being close to her. Then I take a deep breath and let it out, all the while twisting my knuckles into the muscles of her back. She likes that, like a half-hearted backrub. "You gonna come to bed?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Releasing her, I step back, strip out of my shirt and climb into the room's only bed. Alma follows after snuffing the lamp, and I have to scoot to the side, almost against the wall, and grab firmly onto the sheets; if I don't, she'll pull them all towards her as she sleeps. "Good night."

She plants a kiss on my cheek. "Good night."

After settling into place on my back, I stare at the thick shadows of the ceiling and smile to myself. There are times when I don't think about it, but there are others, like now, when this all just reminds me of when we were kids. Arguing, then making up. Trying to fit into a bed made for one person. It's nothing profound, but the similarity is warm, and makes for easy sleeping.

When morning rolls around I do my usual stretches, then cross the hall and push my way into Mustadio's and Meliadoul's room. The sun is up and so are they; Meliadoul is busy buckling on plates of golden armor over her nondescript clothes, while the engineer has some tools out and is already busy tinkering with his gun. Or one of his guns. The open shutters between their beds let amber sunlight streaming in, glowing on the faded polish of the wooden floor planks.

At my entry, they both twist to look at me, and Meliadoul breaks into a grin. She's quite the sight, with loose dark pigtails hanging just past her jawline and her armor half-on, breastplate but no legs, one shoulder but not the other. "Ramza! You should knock, you know. Unless you were _trying _to catch me before I was fully dressed?"

I glance to Mustadio, who looks a little uncomfortable alone with the two of us, then shrug. "If you were half-naked with him here, I'd probably have some questions for you."

"Oh, good point." Meliadoul grabs her second shoulder plate from the case at the foot of her bed, then fits it to her body, all without looking; she's done this many times before. "Anyway, what are you up to today?"

"I haven't really decided yet." I never figure this stuff out beforehand, just go out into the city and see what needs to be done. "Maybe I'll wander over by the dock-side market and keep an eye out for pickpockets."

She shakes her head, swaying the pigtails. "You're a strange one, Ramza."

"What? Why?"

"It's just... who _does_ that?" Now bending to buckle on a leg plate, she smiles sideways at me as she speaks. The expression is fond rather than teasing. "This, and then the... what was it yesterday? Helping that amputee beggar find new clothes and some food?"

I blink. "Oh, no, that was the day before. Yesterday was the old lady." Ma Bones, she called herself. My cheeks still hurt.

She laughs at this. "Yeah. You're like a hero, Ramza."

I roll my eyes and kick at the corner of her bed. "Oh, come on. I'm just trying to... help balance out some of the world's harshness."

"Oh, right. Of course. Because there's a huge difference there." She doesn't even look me as she mutters this, and even Mustadio chuckles, seated on his bed.

"Meliadoul, I didn't come here to be complimented by you."

After tugging tight the last strap on her armor, she glances up at me. "So why exactly did you come here?"

I frown at her. "To see if you two were up."

"Well, we are." Planting hands on her knees, she rises to her feet. She's as tall as I am, and the sun gleams on her armor like it's from a children's story. "So, that's covered. What's next?"

"Breakfast." Turning, I step aside from the door and gesture towards it. "Alma's already down there."

"Right, I get it. We're slow. Not everyone leaps out of bed to sing a hearty song at the rising sun every morning." Shaking her head, she shuffles out into the hallway, clicking as she moves. Mustadio unfolds himself from the bed to follow.

I push the door shut with two fingers before he can do so, ignoring Meliadoul's surprised grunt from the hallway. Mustadio stops in mid-step and blinks at me, and I study him in return. He looks the same as yesterday, not smug or gloating in his conquest of Alma or any such thing, but... still. There are forms to be observed.

After a moment he grins and swallows. "R... Ramza? What is it?"

Crossing arms over my chest, I frown at the floor as I shuffle towards him, and for some reason he backs away. "So, I'm given to understand you've expressed interest in my sister."

"What? Oh, that's what this is...?" His back thumps into the wall and he stops there. A sudden frown crosses his face. "Yeah, we're together, but we're, ah... well, the control is basically in her hands, so..." He trails off with a weak laugh, and slides his gaze away.

I nod a question at him. "What's with you? You're acting all nervous."

Mustadio laughs again and rubs his forearms. "You just look a little... well... I don't know. It's nothing."

I consider this for a moment, then shrug. "Anyway, Alma's a sweet girl and I wouldn't like to see her hurt."

"I'm... aware." His lips thin and he reaches back to toy with his ponytail before making a visible effort to stop.

"Great." I smile, stepping forward to throw an arm around his shoulders. "Then let's get some breakfast, shall we?"

"Uh, yeah." He swallows again and forces a smile, and his steps drag as we head out into the hallway.

What a weird guy. I dismiss his odd behavior and try to think more about what I should be doing for the rest of the day. A bit of wandering, doing what I can to help when the opportunities arise, and then... what, dancing with Meliadoul? She's expressed an interest.

If Alma doesn't mind, at least.


End file.
